


i fell hard in your arms tonight (it was nice)

by opaldawn



Series: i don't want the world (i just want your half) [2]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Domesticity, F/F, Flirting, Goth Lesbian x Fancy Lesbian, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Onions as a Plot Point, Pining, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Slice of Life, Yearning I Suppose, not enough just really gentle and funny and painless vesbud out there so i wrote it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:33:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27618406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opaldawn/pseuds/opaldawn
Summary: See, here's the problem. Vespa Ilkay knows how to cut a man's throat before they even notice there's someone behind them. She knows how to deactivate a burglar alarm with both hands tied behind her back. She knows how to save someone from a blaster shot through the heart, and how to let someone die from a papercut and make it look like an accident.She doesn't have acluehow to deal with a stupidcrush.
Relationships: Buddy Aurinko/Vespa Ilkay
Series: i don't want the world (i just want your half) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952839
Comments: 26
Kudos: 45





	i fell hard in your arms tonight (it was nice)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dykeacademia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dykeacademia/gifts).



> rated T only because it's vespa's POV and she likes to get swear-y. CW only for very very brief and non-explicit descriptions of killing stuff and medical stuff, because it's vespa's POV and she gets introspective when shes got a crush on someone.
> 
> biggest of thanks to adam dykeacademia for inspiring this whole thing by getting mad at me for saying poggers. it did start as a joke fic but i liked them too much. anyways you can imagine that vespa says poggers when they kiss for the first time
> 
> title from arms tonite by mother mother (i know, i know.)

It was still late afternoon by the time they'd finished their mission debrief. Which was, honestly, more of a ritual than anything— not like they hadn't planned the heist out with such meticulous carefulness, hadn't been by each others' sides nearly the whole time. The review today was quicker than ever, too, because, unusually, everything had gone  _ right, _ and the two of them still glowed with the satisfaction of a job well done.

_ Splendidly,  _ Buddy might say,  _ perfect,  _ or  _ without a hitch,  _ or maybe even  _ legendary.  _ But  _ well  _ was good enough for Vespa. The Platonic ideal of perfection wasn't as important as the physical solid golden statue they'd come out with. Not as important as the fact that they'd finally be able to pay off this ship and afford something nice for themselves for once (Vespa's got her eye on a genuine sim-leather jacket with a built in bulletproof vest; Buddy's scouring the galactic net for tickets to see some string quartet that's making a tour stop on a nearby asteroid). Not as important as the blow that they've dealt today to the Dawning family, notorious for buying up entire planets and displacing whole towns of people to mine for oil.

And, obviously, none of that’s as important as Buddy Aurinko. As getting to come home to her (and what a concept,  _ coming home _ being a relief after a hard day, rather than a dreadful inevitability after a few nights couch-surfing, or a grudging return to a cot in the barracks medbay). As the way they're so perfectly sympatico during heists, and the weirdly domestic peace they find in between.

The legend herself calls from the other room of the ship. "Vee, if you'd like a say in what we have for dinner, you'd better come out here!"

Vespa stretches like a cat, blinks a few times for good measure. She'd gone into their room after the debrief to lie down for a little, needing some time alone to get out of fight-or-flight mode. Staring at the ceiling for half an hour hadn't been the most thrilling use of time, but at least it gets her heart rate down. It's just another one of those little rituals common to the life she's carved out for herself. 

Unfortunately, the quiet time had let thoughts she's been trying her best to suppress leech into the cracks in her mind. Thoughts that should  _ know  _ that they don't have room to scatter around with old remembered heist plans and Rangian folk music and medical history. 

See, here's the problem. Vespa Ilkay knows how to cut a man's throat before they even notice there's someone behind them. She knows how to deactivate a burglar alarm with both hands tied behind her back. She knows how to save someone from a blaster shot through the heart, and how to let someone die from a papercut and make it look like an accident. 

She doesn't have a  _ clue _ how to deal with a stupid  _ crush.  _

It wasn't in the job description, all right? When they'd escaped the Outer Rim together, almost by chance, when they'd established their shared dream of seeing the wonders of the galaxy and bringing down those who use their power for evil and stealing everything their grubby little hands could carry along the way, when they'd agreed that they had a better shot working together than separately. There'd been no omens, no  _ portents,  _ nothing to let her know how easy it was to get attached. That she'd be staying up until three in the morning every night listening to the deep breathing of the woman sleeping in the upper bunk. 

Of course, nothing could portend Buddy Aurinko. Not the way her fiery hair cascades down her back, begging to be touched. Not the way she lights up every room like the goddamn sun. Not the way she puts on such a beautiful front for the world, and not the way she let the facade fall down, gets a little louder and a little less proper and a little more  _ real _ when it’s just the two of them together. Not the way she calls Vespa—

"Vespa, darling, what  _ are  _ you doing in there? If you come out here and help me with dinner, I'll even do the dishes after." 

There, damn it. More often than not, when she says Vespa's name, the next word out of her mouth is  _ darling. Dear,  _ sometimes, if she's in a real good mood. Her voice always dips a little when she says it, and her smile gets a little fuller. It does something to Vespa's stomach that puts her whole schema out of whack.

Buddy calls from the kitchen again. "If you don't at least let me know that you're still alive in there, I'm going to fry up what's left of those  _ delicious  _ frozen fish cakes, all right?" 

_ Eurgh.  _ The fish cakes are also on the list of things that make her stomach feel in a way that is not normal. Not nearly as pretty as Buddy, though. 

"Fine, fine! I'm coming." She rolls her neck in a circle, pushes the daydreams (gaydreams, maybe) back into the little box in her mind, and makes her way out to the kitchen. 

  
  


"Pass me the garlic salt, will you, Bud?" They've wound up making pasta with flash-dried bio-tofu. Not a gourmet meal, but it definitely beats the fish cakes. 

The salt is in the bottom drawer, low enough that Buddy has to bend over to get it. Vespa hits her head on a cabinet in her haste to look away. Stupid goddamn one-track mind. Stupid goddamn one-person kitchen. 

"Fuck," she grumbles. "Ouch."

"Are you all right, darling?" Buddy stands back up, hovers her hand just above the close-cropped hair at the side of Vespa's head. 

"What? I'm fine! I'm fine." She can't decide whether to lean into Buddy's touch or flinch away from it, so she just stirs the pasta sauce aggressively. 

Buddy shrugs and tosses her the garlic salt. She catches it mid-arc without even thinking about it— even in the middle of a dumb little crisis, let it never be said that Vespa Ilkay doesn't have a good reaction time. 

They cook in silence for a few more minutes. Vespa's dicing an onion, and she's managed to bring her focus back to cooking, all until Buddy reaches for a butter packet and her arm brushes against Vespa's. She startles at the contact, her hand slipping. Hopefully Buddy didn't notice—

"Oh, Vespa, you're bleeding!" 

Vespa looks down at her hand, and sure enough, there's a good-sized nick just below her thumb. What the hell? She's been using knives since she was nine, trained enough that they're pretty much an extension of her arm at this point. She shouldn't have so much trouble chopping vegetables. 

"S'no big deal," she mutters. "Didn't even feel it." 

But Buddy's already reached over and taken Vespa's hand in hers, running her thumb just below the cut so tenderly that Vespa thinks she'll probably faint. 

"Your hand is so cold," she says softly, under her breath so Vespa wonders whether she even meant to say it out loud. 

"Um. Bad circulation?" Really, more like all the blood still inside her is busy lighting up her face and ear-tips until they must be about the same shade as Buddy's hair, but it's not technically a lie. 

Buddy uncurls her fingers from Vespa's, and Vespa comes really close to saying something dumb like  _ no, that was nice.  _ She doesn't pull her hand away, though, instead pressing her palm up against Vespa's. Buddy's fingers are a solid half-inch longer than hers, just a simple scientific fact that shouldn't have her feeling like her hand's a time bomb detonator and her heart the bomb itself. 

She looks up and meets Buddy's eyes. Which turns out to be a mistake, because Buddy's staring at her, too. Looking at her like, fuck, like she's the treasure at the heart of a big heist, like she's some kinda jewel in some corporate bigwig's museum. Like she's something valuable, maybe even something  _ pretty,  _ just like Buddy likes. Nobody's ever looked at her like that before, that's for sure. 

Vespa wants to tell herself she's misreading, that she's wrong about something about the situation, but she knows Buddy too well. She thinks, at least. Maybe it's just a desperate hope, though, just the synapses in her brain firing mistakenly, pitifully, to make her think she's got a chance. 

She can't bring herself to take her eyes away from Buddy's, though. God, those  _ eyes.  _ There's a brightness, a realness, in their depths that's enough to make a girl believe that there's something good out there after all. 

And that thought is when she knows she needs to get it together. She pulls her hand away, looking down and to the left. 

Buddy, for what it's worth, looks just as bad off as her. She blinks a few times, opens her mouth and then closes it. Vespa doesn't think she's ever seen the great Buddy Aurinko speechless. It's… well, it sure means something. She's just not sure what. 

"You should wash that off," she says after the longest time. "Wouldn't want our resident medic to have to use her prodigious skills on herself, would we." 

"Right." Vespa nods, pushes past Buddy to get to the sink. "Ah, shit, I bled all over the onion."

"That's all right," Buddy replies, sounding like her mind is very much not on the onion. She's doing the  _ thing  _ again, that thing where she looks at you like she's staring into your soul and digging out anything she can figure out, anything she can use against you. Vespa wants to ask what Buddy's finding in her. Whether there's something she likes, maybe. 

She doesn't. She grabs a carrot, and, silently, a little more carefully this time, begins slicing it.

  
  


The spaghetti is passable, even without the onion. They put on an old stream, like always when they eat, so Buddy doesn't have to fake being offended at Vespa talking with her mouth full. Tonight's is a documentary about space crabs (Vespa's choice; Buddy tends to go for more action-packed thrillers). 

Vespa's not paying attention, not really. She's got bigger things on her mind. Things like Buddy's loud, surprised laugh when one of the crabs turns out to be a cleverly designed robot, like the way she twirls her hair absentmindedly around her finger, like the way she settles against the sofa, moving closer and closer to Vespa (unconsciously, right, it's gotta be). 

They're almost touching by the time that they've both finished dinner, just about pressed up against each other. And it's not like Vespa has any reason to be shy around her! They're no strangers to physical contact— Buddy's carried Vespa back to their motorbike, away from a heist gone wrong, more than once. They've played star-crossed lovers and newlywed couples when the opportunity's been right. Hell, they'd even shared a bed, for a  _ very  _ memorable two weeks while casing a mansion planetside. 

It's not the touch that scares her. It's what it could mean. God, she's scared that Buddy doesn't feel the same way, that it'll ruin everything if she finds out. And part of her's even more terrified that Buddy might possibly reciprocate. 

The crab stream ends. Vespa hasn't absorbed anything from it except that Buddy liked the little robotic one, commenting on its antics all night. 

"You said you'd do the dishes, right?" she says, just to have something to say. She goes to stand up.

Buddy reaches out and grabs her wrist. "Darling, we've just stolen the most priceless trinket in the galaxy's southeast region. Don't you think that calls for a celebration?"

"A celebration." Vespa's wary, not quite sure where this is headed. They sure as hell can't go offship right now, not with the closest planet being the one they're wanted for grand larceny on. "Okay, I'll bite. What d'you have planned?"

"Well, I don't know about you, dear, but I've been burning the candle at  _ three  _ ends trying to manage our heists, our criminal records,  _ and  _ our finances. And now that one of those burdens is lifted for the near future—" she shrugs— "I was thinking, perhaps we could just spend some time together. Some time wherein we're not running for our lives nor planning the next time we run for our lives."

"Oh." Vespa doesn't know what to say to that, or what to do with the fact that Buddy's still holding onto her arm. "Yeah. That, uh— that sounds nice, Bud."

"Wonderful!" Buddy reaches under the table, procures a bottle of wine. "I've been saving this for a very special occasion for nearly a year now."

"What's so  _ special  _ about this occasion? Not like this is our first million-cred gig." 

"Well," Buddy grins, "I'm getting to spend the evening with a  _ very  _ special lady, which counts for something."

_ Fuck.  _ How does she just  _ say  _ things like that? How does she know exactly which buttons to press to have Vespa stammering and scowling, trying to kick her brain into gear enough to come up with some reply that won't give away everything.

"Bet you use that cheap line on every girl you break into a high-security museum vault with," is the best she comes up with.

Buddy laughs. "Only you, darling." 

Well, there's nothing she can really say to that, is there. She settles back down on the sofa. Buddy reaches for the comms, queues up another movie. A classic, a 24th-century rom-com set during the Venusian Golden Age. Buddy likes to quote lines from it, sometimes, play the part of both leading actors. It's… adorable, which isn't a word that Vespa's ever used to describe anything, she doesn't think. 

The music starts and the credits roll. Buddy pours herself a glass of wine. Vespa considers the relative benefits of sobriety, then notices that Buddy's moved even closer, her hand resting on the sofa scarily close to Vespa's own. "Pour me one, Bud. It's been a long day."

She obliges, getting another glass. "I'm sure any day feels longer to someone who stays up until four in the morning, hm?"

"What the f— how'd you know?"

"Oh, ah." Buddy clearly hadn't been expecting that line of questioning. "I heard you tossing and turning in the middle of the night. You don't, so much, when you're asleep." 

"Oh." The thought of Buddy Aurinko  _ caring  _ about her enough to make a note of her sleeping patterns is a lot. "Sorry."

"No, not at all, darling, I was awake too. If you were worried about the heist, you know, you could've woken me up."

"Not that." Vespa shakes her head. Heists were second nature to her now, basically, and they'd prepared to the nines for this one. "Guess I was— guess I was just thinking."

"About what?" 

The movie's started by now, though. Thank god for plausible deniability. "Tell you later, 'kay?"

  
  


An hour and two glasses of wine later, Vespa finds herself in what Buddy would refer to as  _ a rather compromising position.  _ The wine bottle sits on the table, nearly half-empty. Buddy's had more to drink than she has, and it shows, in the way her laugh's gotten a little louder and slower, the way her cheeks are just a little flushed.

Also, the way that her arm's made its way around Vespa's shoulders. 

She doesn't even know exactly  _ how _ it happened, just that one moment she was half-paying attention to the movie, swirling her wine around in the glass, and the next moment Buddy was. The next moment, she'd. God. Gone and started  _ cuddling  _ her, wrapped her arm around her on the pretense of a yawn and pulled her close to her chest. 

Physically, it's surprisingly nice— Vespa's never been a fan of touch, just in general, but Buddy's warm and soft and smells like wine and lavender perfume and Vespa  _ trusts _ her. 

Mentally, though. She hasn't been able to focus on the movie in a  _ while,  _ the majority of her focus going towards not dying due to the fact that  _ Buddy Aurinko is holding her, the two of them are watching a rom-com together and Buddy's got her arm around her and she's laughing and smiling at her and not to mention that her head is in painfully close proximity to Buddy's chest and that's _ —

"This is my favorite part," Buddy says, clearly aiming for a quiet comment but failing. Vespa looks up. Though she hasn't been following, and she doesn't know the movie line for line like Buddy, she recognizes the scene— Tolulope the starving artist, held captive by her uncle's mob connections, but it's okay because a few seconds and cheesy lines of dialogue later, her ex-rival and ex-lover Madeline's gonna swoop in to rescue her. 

"Uh-huh," Vespa says, remembering how to talk with some difficulty. 

"You're tense," Buddy comments.

"Just… getting really into the movie, I guess. You know, hey, this part's, uh, intense, huh? Who knows what, uh, who knows if she'll be okay?" 

"Darling, you know how it ends!" Buddy laughs, runs her fingers up and down Vespa's arm. 

Vespa shivers a little. Fuck, she's gonna have to keep up the charade, isn't she. "Doesn't mean it's not kinda scary." 

"You stabbed a man in the shoulder less than two hours ago, Vee," replies Buddy, "and you find  _ this  _ scary?"

"Sorry," Vespa sighs.

"Oh, be quiet. If you'll forgive the obvious affront to your character, dear— that's incredibly cute."

Goddamn it. Vespa needs to remember that this— that Buddy being so fuckin' hands-on and flirty— doesn't mean anything, that she's clearly tipsy if not outright drunk, and plus she flirtswith everything that moves, basically. Her wanting to cuddle during a movie doesn't mean she feels— any of the things that have been taking over Vespa's mind for the last few months. She needs to remember that keeping up the partnership that let her escape the Rim, that's led her to this unexpected happiness, is more important than… oh, forget it. 

"Look," says Buddy. It's more of a sigh, almost. She points at the projector screen. 

While Vespa's been daydreaming, the big escape has happened, and Mads and Tolu appear to have made up their differences, because now they're kissing, arms wrapped around each other, so passionate it's hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. 

And, sure, okay. It's nice, or whatever. Good for them. She's more focused on the way that Buddy's looking at her, a sparkle in her eye like she's got some big plan that Vespa's an integral part of. Or maybe, that Vespa's the prize at the end of. 

"Isn't that nice," Buddy whispers, mouth just inches from Vespa's ear. Vespa's currently wondering whether she should explain to Buddy how to save someone if they have a heart attack, information which seems like it might be useful in the very near future. 

"Yeah," she chokes out, and then Buddy's moving, shifting on the sofa, pulling Vespa with her so they're sitting face-to-face, still unbearably close to each other. 

"Every time I've kissed someone," she begins, still in that whispered tone like she's letting Vespa in on some big secret of hers, "it's been the end of something. End of a masquerade heist, end of an evening, end of high school— don't worry about that one!" 

She laughs, but her face is still serious, still nearly unreadable. "I've always wondered what it would be like to kiss someone… as a beginning. As a promise." 

Their faces are  _ so close _ now. Close enough that she can see every smile-line at the corner of Buddy's eyes, the little gap between her front teeth, the faint freckles just barely visible against her dark skin. So close that Vespa could just lean forwards, could just get over all the what-ifs and close the gap, and—

The ship jolts. The moment is broken with a  _ crash _ of broken glass and a  _ gurgle  _ of spilled liquid. Buddy pulls away with a groan.

"Damn autopilot," she sighs. "That was three hundred creds worth of wine right there."

Vespa's brain is a good thirty seconds behind her body as they separate. It's cold, now, maybe 'cause they've flown into a storm but maybe just 'cause Buddy's no longer holding her. She reaches up and touches her lips absently, hoping that Buddy's too busy crying over spilled merlot to notice. 

Her mind is whirling. Reeling, even. Spiraling? Maybe. She can't find any pragmatic way to explain away what just happened. The night in with drinks and a rom-com, sure, just a way to pass the time. The yawn-arm-around-shoulder move, well, that's a classic, maybe Buddy just felt like being dramatic. Maybe she was cold, or something. 

But she's a logical person. She can't read an expression like Buddy can, but she knows her well enough now to know that, in hindsight, Buddy's been sizing her up all night, Buddy planned this evening for a purpose.  _ Buddy Aurinko was going to kiss her,  _ and now she's huffing angrily and searching for a towel, and the ship is bouncing through stormy turbulence, and the movie's come to an end, and there's a growing red stain on the floor and a soaring feeling in Vespa's chest. 

It's all too much. She leans over, presses her forehead into the crook of her elbow, and starts laughing. A little hysterically, sure. Maybe she's buzzed. Definitely she's giddy, and nervous, and shaky. 

"Darling, what are you— that was my last bottle! It's not funny!" Buddy's beautiful when she's happy, striking when she's angry, and, yeah, okay, adorable (ugh) when she's playfully indignant. 

"Sorry," Vespa says with a little gasp, wiping at the corners of her eyes and continuing to giggle. "I can, um— I can get the dishes, if you want, if you're busy dealing with the floor."

"How terribly generous of you, darling," Buddy says, deadpan. "Bring me some white vinegar for the rug, if you're not too busy. It'll stain otherwise."

  
  


By the time Vespa's done with the dishes, Buddy's gone off to shower. That's okay— it really has been a long day, and Vespa's tired. Tired, and for the first time wondering whether she's got a chance. Whether tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that, she'll get to show Buddy what it's like to kiss someone as a beginning. 

They don't talk much before bed, but it's not an uncomfortable silence. It's made up for by shared glances, by the light touch of Buddy's hand on Vespa's back as she wishes her good night. 

And if Vespa lets herself fall asleep thinking about Buddy Aurinko, well. Nobody has to know about it but her. 

**Author's Note:**

> THERE WE GO. it really is just 3.7k words of gay people. inspirations here include: convos with the tpp discord, my personal experiences as a person of woman-loving persuasion, and that comic about horses. 
> 
> i cannot stress how much kudos and comments mean to me!! non-jupeter focused fics don't get nearly as much love number-wise, so any feedback is great, even if its just "wow i liked this!!". if you WANT to leave a very long comment about how this fic means everything to you and quoting your favorite parts? well, i won't stop you. i WILL marry you in the spring. 
> 
> i'm also taking fic requests over at my twitter @vesbud! if you don't feel like using twitter you can totally also drop one down here in the comments- i'll write pretty much anything except for multichap fics and explicit stuff.


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